


Chicken!

by Leafling



Series: Discontinued [8]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gay Chicken, Jailbait!Tony, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Rutting, Sexual Tension, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leafling/pseuds/Leafling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our boys get locked in a closet. Tony has an idea on how to pass the time—Steve, well, he’s not amused.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chicken!

**Author's Note:**

> This is waaay longer than I intended. Oh, well, I like how it turned out.

The closet is filled with expensive coats that smell heavily of fancy fragrances that were probably all magnificent separate but clash when made to intermingle so closely on the coat rack. Fine furs shed all over the place, leaving annoying little fibers on anything touching them; whoever is the owner of the off-white suede jumper will probably be pissed when they have it brought to them by the butler, and find that a white Bengal tiger rubbed off on it like a scratching post.

There are shoes stacked on many racks neatly fixed to the wall, each pair bearing names of designers that are bizarre and foreign. The men's shoes are sleek, black and barely distinguishable in their similar designs; some are made of leather, others out of snakeskin or some other unfortunate reptile. The women's shoes are a lot more avant-garde; ranging in color, design, height, and style, each of them more extravagant than the last, as though each pair had been trying to outdo the last.

Tony hissed as he shuffled back against a rack of particularly painful-looking stilettos and got poked in the side for all his troubles. Resisting the urge to knock Mrs. Klein's two thousand dollar, charcoal-black Chanel's onto the floor to hopefully get scuffed, Tony shifted away from the wall and closer to the center of the floor. Out of all the closets to hide in during one of his parents' crappy dinner parties, the one that was currently being used to store everyone's stuff probably wasn't the best choice. After all, the butler could walk in on him at any moment, hiding underneath Mr. and Mrs. Devereaux's matching cashmere pea-coats; and being caught so easily defeated the purpose of hiding in the first place.

Trying to get comfortable—which was virtually impossible in a three-piece suit that's tailor-made to conform to his shape, with barely enough fabric leftover for mobility sake—Tony startled embarrassingly when the long white feather train of Ms. Cobain's sheer shrug tickled his neck. Rubbing the affected skin as it broke out in goosebumps, the teen mumbled to himself in the dark.

The only thing lamer than sitting in a dark closet by himself, being molested by the remains of an albino Big Bird, was the fact that he'd forgotten to nick a bottle of Chardonnay on his way to what he'd originally thought was a good hiding place. Now he was sitting here—alone in the dark, need it be known— _sober,_ while he was waiting for the party to end. Good Lord, if Tony had a nickel for every bad idea he's ever had... _well,_ Tony wouldn't have many nickels because his ideas were usually _brilliant,_ but the one or two nickels he did get would be framed in a nice case to remind the teen not to come up with any other bad ideas.

For Christ's sake, Tony could be out in the hall listening to one of his mother's desperate friends talking about how they'd met a younger man who just so happened to be an eastern European model who cared about all the boring, shitty stuff she did. Not that he particularly cared for what she'd have to say, Tony just figured it would be better than trying to eavesdrop on random passersby as he scooted uncomfortably on the hardwood floor.

His stomach rumbled, hunger making it that much more difficult to stay where he was. All the cooks were serving at this point were frilly little appetizers that did anything but whet the appetite. Old cheese, tofu, any of those lousy foreign hors d'oeuvres; _no thanks,_ he'll have a cheeseburger and fries, please. The deviled eggs had been alright, but Tony was pretty sure the waiting staff was pocketing them, which would explain why there were so few of them being passed around. Thinking of them made his stomach burn.

If he could just wait out all the tired conversation, the questions about how he's been doing academically and if he's been thinking about putting on a little weight, the endless praise his father receives for his inventions and his contributions to the military, the hollow compliments his mother gets for the decorations and the theme of the party or her dress and makeup—if Tony could just make it to dinnertime, he'd be home-free. Dinner was the best part of the night. He wasn't old enough to sit with his parents, saving him from having to schmooze with his father's associates or having his cheeks pinched by the gnarled hands of his mother's hairdresser. The teens that sat with him were usually quiet; the boys playing games under the table while the girls, self-conscious of their weight, excused themselves from the table long before dessert.

_Yeah, if he could only make it until dinner._

Tony's tummy roared loudly in protest, making him curl in on himself as he tried to muffle the sound. Outside of the door Tony could hear conversation, the voices muffled but somehow familiar as they grew louder with each passing moment. Realizing that whoever it was that was talking was coming to the closet, the teen felt panicked. He'd been in here too long to get caught! Bracing himself, Tony pushed back against the many boxes that laid hidden against the furthest wall; left and right he was assaulted by coats and boxes and the horrible smell of multiple colognes, but as the teen pulled his knees tightly to his chest and watched as the many articles swayed in front of him, Tony was sure he was completely hidden.

The door opened moments later, light and sound pouring into the tight space so quickly that it left Tony shell-shocked. Holding his head as Mozart's Symphony No. 31 rang in his ears, the teen barely had time to react before the door slammed and the closet was once again shrouded in darkness. However, despite initially thinking he'd dodged a bullet, Tony soon realized that he had company. The coats stirred as someone pushed up against them, breathing hard as moaning quietly as they shifted restlessly.

Tony rolled his eyes. Of all the closets they could have chosen to screw in, it HAD to be THIS closet. The couple separated with a series of loud inhalations between the two of them, the woman panting and whispering almost too faintly to be understood. As far as Tony could tell by their dialogue, the couple might as well have come straight out of Gone With The Wind. _"But, my husband, he'll catch us... I don't think I can do this anymore."_ The woman confessed shakily.

 _"I love you,"_ the man quickly interjected. _"Forget about him and this unhappy life. I love you; let's runaway together."_

 _"Oh, Marques...!"_ The woman gasped daintily. The coats started shaking once more, signaling to Tony that the couple had started kissing once again.

Tony glowered as the couple made out for a whole five minutes. _By all means, have sex in my parents closet... don't mind me,_ he thought irritably.

There was a moment spent debating whether or not to spook them, or let them finish their little session and tell on them during dinner—ultimately, Tony's decision was made for him by the butler arriving with more guests' coats. Again, there was lots of noise and so much light that Tony flinched. The couple gasped, and so too did the butler because he hadn't been expecting to find a couple banging amongst everyone's fine outerwear. Tony was careful not to laugh so loudly as the couple split, leaving the scandalized butler to sputter in embarrassment.

When everything settled down once more, Tony was sure that that had been all the excitement he was getting for the night. Wishing that the light was on so he could check his watch, the teen was just about to leave—

... and then the closet door opened and closed once again; this time, so quietly that Tony barely had time to register it. There was no heavy breathing or gentle moans, just the shuffle of fabric and the creaking of the door due to the full weight of a person being applied to it. When Tony heard nothing else, he dared to peek through the wall of coats. Of course, he couldn't see much what with it almost being pitch-black; however, thanks to the thin strip of light pouring in from the bottom of the door, Tony was able to make out the design of this stranger's socks. _Anchors?_ What self-respecting grown man would wear socks with anchors on them? Tony's smirk was devious; he knew exactly what kind of grown man would wear such childish socks.

" _Steve?_ " The teen whispered in excitement.

The door creaked and then Tony heard hangers zipping across the rack overhead. "Stark... you're in here too? Kid, where are you?" The super soldier asked. Pushing coats around in search for Tony, the blond actually startled a bit when the teen finally stuck his hand out for Steve to see.

"Down here, y'know, enjoying the peace and quiet," Tony joked.

Steve's eye roll could virtually be heard. Much to Tony's surprise, five thick fingers wrapped around the wrist of his extended hand; Steve's hand warm and calloused, large enough to hold both of Tony's hands and still have space leftover. The teen made a startled sound when Steve yanked him to his feet. "Your mother's been worrying about you all night and here you are; hiding in a closet... have you been in here this entire evening?"

Tony nearly crashed into Steve's chest, that's how quickly he was made to stand. Catching himself at the last minute, Tony ended up merely brushing against the super soldier instead; earning him a lungful of the other man's cologne. Oddly enough, it didn't give him a headache like everyone else's had.

Steve made an impatient sound, bringing Tony's mind back to the present. “Y’know, if someone happened to walk in on us... well, you know how people will talk.” Tony teased, evading the blond's question easily enough.

"What're you talking about?" Steve sounded genuinely confused.

Tony snorted in his usual know-it-all way. "So you think there’s absolutely nothing wrong with someone discovering us like this? A minor (that’s me) and a decorated officer (that’s you), hiding in a dark closet?"

Steve gritted his teeth, realizing what Tony was getting at. Not that he cared for the implication—that he was somehow trying to seduce Tony just because the two of them just so happened to be in the closet together—but because he realized that the teen was poking fun at him. Squeezing Tony's wrist a little harder than he should have, the blond shushed him. "Oh, right… because heaven forbid someone find out you’ve been hiding from the guests."

Tony’s mouth fell open as he started to come up with a witty retort; however, the sound of Mrs. Stark talking with one of the maids outside the door interrupted him. _Crap, not his mom…_

Tony looked up at Steve with eyes wide like saucers. If she opened the door, the jig was up. And even if Steve didn’t understand what the consequence of getting caught, Tony’s fickle conscience wasn’t sure if it could bear the thought of Steve getting into trouble because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

 _"I've been looking for that boy everywhere."_ Maria confided, voice sound unsettlingly close. _"He always finds a way to make a mess of these parties. At first, I just thought he was having a rebellious streak. But now I think his father's right… that Anthony's trying to sabotage his own future."_

Tony was used to hearing his mother talk like this. Always worrying, always whining about him to anyone that would listen. What made him angry, however, was discovering that Tony’s own _father_ thought he was a failure. ( _Okay, no one said that, but that’s what Tony interpreted his mother’s words to mean._ )

Resolving to give his father nothing but hell for the next week—or four, just for good measure—Tony balled his hands into fists.

Tony felt a hand on his shoulder—the one on his wrist having long since let go; leaving a tingling sensation where Steve’s fingers had left their brand. The blond’s other hand joined its counterpart on Tony’s opposite shoulder, stilling the teen even though he didn’t know he was moving. " _You're shaking...?_ " Steve whispered, lips brushing against the shell of Tony’s ear.

To say that that wasn’t the most unintentionally sexy thing Steve has ever done to him wouldn’t exactly be true—because Steve had this infuriating (and exasperatingly arousing) habit of being sexy and not knowing it—but it was definitely in the top five; tied with the shiver-inducing groans and grunts Steve made when he got frustrated working on his motorcycle… which Tony may or may not be in the process of sabotaging.

Tony shifted awkwardly, aroused beyond belief and straining in his pants because of it. Cursing his tailor for making his trousers such a snug fit, the teen felt waves of heat wash over him, making it hard to stand so close to Steve while wearing so many clothes.

Outside the door, the conversation grew impossibly silent. For a moment, Tony naïvely thought that his mother and the maid had left... but then he quickly remembered that he hadn't gotten his cleverness from his father.

The doorknob twisted left and right a few times, as though someone outside was testing the lock. And that's when Tony realized that his mother had planned to lock him in the closet; probably to punish him for trying to duck out of the party.

Tony had to hand it to her; she could be a clever bitch when she wanted to.

Steve’s hands fell away from Tony’s shoulders as the super soldier twisted around and grabbed for the knob, realizing on his own that something was amiss. Tony could’ve almost laughed as Steve jimmied the doorknob for several seconds before finally accepting the fact that it was locked. Hearing the super soldier swear under his breath, Tony found himself smirking despite the circumstances. “So… it looks like we’re going to be in here for a while.”

“Damn it.” Steve exclaimed, resting his forehead on the door in defeat.

Tony took a half-step closer, choosing to lean on the tiny space of wall beside the door because the teen didn’t think the Steve would appreciate Tony standing so close to him otherwise. “Hey, I’m not that bad, Cap… in fact, I’ve been told that I know how to have a good time.”

Steve huffed, “that’s because all your friends are delinquents just like you. Your idea of a good time is…”

“Way better than sitting in the dark, waiting for my mom to come back to get us,” Tony interjected curtly. “These parties have a habit of lasting far longer than they ought to. We could be in here for hours. C’mon, Cap, lighten up a little. It won’t kill you.”

Steve sighed, “oh, I have faith lightening up won’t kill me. You’ve already called dibs on putting me in an early grave.”

“Hardly… you’re more use to me alive than dead.” Tony joked, reaching out and giving Steve’s arm a friendly punch. “Now… How’s about we play a little game?”

* * *

"That is the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” Steve chastised, “A game whose entire goal it is to…”

“Make the other player pull away. Like I said, _it’s chicken. But with kissing instead of jumping in front of a train._ ” Tony explained exasperatedly. “Seriously, Cap, I’ve already told you the rules three times already! What more do you want to know?”

Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony. “I want to know where you heard of this game from.”

“Does it matter?” Tony shot back nonchalantly. “Are you in or not?”

Steve’s answer was just as predictable as ever. **“No,”** the blond declined adamantly.

They sniped at each other for five minutes. Tony called him juvenile names like “chicken” and “scaredy-cat”. When Steve didn’t relent, the teen started kicking him softly in the shin and poking him in the ribs. If the blond had to choose between being forced to play a _stupid, childish_ game, or be aggravated by Tony for a whole two hours—well, his choice was made for him, wasn’t it?

Steve threw his arms up in defeat. “Okay, fine… fine, I give up!”

Tony’s abuse came to an abruptly halt, “what, really…?” The surprise in his voice almost made Steve want to hit him. There was a long stretch of silence afterward. Steve waited motionlessly for Tony to _do something_ because he’d no idea what the point of this game was, despite having had the rules explained to him more than once. He heard the shuffling of fabric after a moment, and then felt his sleeve being tugged. “Down here,” Tony ordered.

Steve rolled his eyes, sinking to his knees before Tony with a skeptical look on his face. “What?”

Tony put his hands on Steve’s shoulders. At such a close distance, they could almost see each other in the darkness—Steve was pretty sure he could see Tony’s smirk.

After that, nothing happened; just Tony holding him at the shoulders, staring holes into Steve’s face. The blond furrowed his brows, determined not to shrug Tony’s hands off of him because the warmth of them started to seep into his clothes. Tony shifted noisily, his fingers flexing along Steve’s shoulders as the teen dared to lean in closer.

When Steve felt the teen’s warm breath washing over his face, the blond had to bite back the urge to flinch away. This close, he could definitely see Tony now—could feel the heat of his half-lidded gaze as he inched ever so closer.

 _We should stop this,_ Steve thought. His eyes fixed on Tony’s soft, pink lips as they parted just barely. At this rate, Tony was going to kiss him—it didn’t occur to Steve that this _game_ didn’t actually work if one of its participants actually wanted to kiss the other person.

Tony only got closer. Steve could _see_ the tiny freckles lightly dusted across the teen’s cheeks and nose. This was scary-close; inappropriately close; dangerously close. Steve’s breath lodged in his chest, his hands balled into tight fists in his lap as he tried not to recoil.

The moment before Tony’s lips touch Steve’s seemed to last forever. It’s just shallow breathing and unrelenting eye-contact; tension that’d made the air around them feel heavy charged with electricity. The blond’s jaw set resolutely, his whole body taut from anticipation. Steve felt Tony’s nails bite into his skin even through his clothing; it didn’t quite hurt, but the sensation left lingering heat in Steve’s chest.

There was still a millisecond left—Steve could just as easily pull away and put an end to everything. He only began to move when Tony kissed him.

Tony’s lips were soft as sin; dry and warm against Steve’s.

The kiss is surprisingly chaste. It’s just lips to lips. Light contact, and nothing else.

The comparison of _this_ kiss to the first one they’d ever exchanged was subconscious and unwarranted. Steve inwardly cursed as thoughts of Tony— _virtually in his lap, kissing him like his life depended on it_ —flooded his mind. The blond had made it a point to forget Tony had ever kissed him in the exercise room those weeks ago. To bury every thought and feeling it had brought to light.

To have said that _this kind_ of chicken wasn’t a good idea was an understatement of **epic** proportions.

One of Tony’s hands relinquished Steve’s jacket in favor of threading itself in the blond’s hair, tousling the neatly groomed curls at the base of the older man’s neck.

Feeling the teen’s fingers in his hair spurred Steve into action. His hands caught Tony’s shoulders, giving him a gentle push that sent the teen into the coats hanging behind him. Tony’s eyes widened, though Steve couldn’t tell if it was in shock or triumph. Tony opened his mouth to say something snide, but all he could manage was an undignified sneeze as feathers and fur rained down onto him like snowflakes from the jostled coats overhead.

There was a moment of silence that consisted mostly of Tony sniffling because Mr. Fitzgerald’s coat smelled heavily of decay (or maybe that was just his cologne) and may have very well been contaminating the closet with pollen.

“You lost. And we were barely in the game, too.” The teen finally managed in a nasally voice, stuffing stolen tissues into his face. And only Anthony Stark could look so smug with an embroidered handkerchief.

Steve didn’t respond. Tony sneered, “So, I guess you’re a chicken.”

_Bwuk, Bwuk, Bwuk…_

The door was eventually unlocked, even though the light in the hall had been dimmed due to the lateness of the evening, it was staggeringly bright. Maria stood before them, smug and matronly as she ordered Tony upstairs for a bath. _"If Tony decided to behave from then on, he could have supper,"_ Maria had said, treating Tony like a small child just to get a rise out of him.

Maria seemed no more shocked to see Steve than she was to see the stars in the sky at night. “I knew someone was missing....” She said jokily, offering Steve a hand up with an air of nonchalance. The super soldier was wary as he let her help him to his feet.

* * *

For the subsequent week, even though everyone else had moved on, Steve and Tony had not. They were, essentially, still in that closet in the midst of their little _game_. Every word; every action; it was all a contest— _well, more so than usual, at least._

 _Bwuk, bwuk, bwuk…_ Tony would tease. Just like that, the teen turned from a nuisance to an absolute nightmare. Getting under Steve’s skin and tormenting him like a bad itch. The blond had begun to lose track of everything going on around him because he started looking over his shoulder for the teen, waiting for Tony to come around each and every corner with _that look_ in his eyes and his hands tucked into his underarms, “ _Bwuk, bwuk, bwuuuuuuk!”_

It got to the point that Steve couldn’t even concentrate. Howard had begun to notice Steve’s odd behavior. The scientist’s response was not unexpected; he had had a bunch of unnecessary tests run on the super soldier, prescribing Steve a cluster of supplements and powders and whatnot, and having him exercise under the supervision of a room full of researchers.

_“Can’t have you breaking down on us,” Howard said thoughtfully before sticking a needle in Steve’s arm._

Though his physical condition stayed in top shape, Steve’s moral was fragmented. All he could think about was Tony mocking him.

It was the end of the school week when Steve challenged him to a rematch. Well, not exactly a rematch... really, it was Steve pouncing on Tony when he caught the teen passing through the garage, the blond wild eyed and determined. Tony made a confused noise as he was pushed onto the hood of the nearest car. It was a good thing the garage was usually empty; that way, Steve didn’t worry about anyone happening upon the two them.

The kiss was hot and intense; Steve forceful and demanding. His lack of restraint was incredible; bringing about a thrilling overload of pleasure. Steve kissed him like he _needed_ Tony; like he was punishing the teen for teasing him so much. It was so fucking good. It made their first kiss pale in comparison.

Tony moaned desperately against Steve’s tongue, letting his book-bag fall onto the ground as he wrapped his arms around the super soldier’s neck. Steve kissed him harder, more urgently. Tony felt one of the blond’s hands on his leg; hot and insistent as they gripped the back of Tony’s knees, spreading his thin legs so Steve could fit in-between them.

Tony groaned as their hips met. Steve wasn’t fully hard yet, but the teen could feel him getting there. The brunet, alternatively, felt like he was on the verge of coming right then and there.

Loving the way his body fit so perfectly against Steve’s substantially larger one, Tony let his eyes flutter closed. He was determined to enjoy the moment before whatever hallucinogen affecting Steve wore off.

The friction of their slowly grinding hips was heavenly, but nowhere near enough. Tony tried grinding harder against Steve, only to find that his hips were pinned to the hood—that he was completely at Steve’s mercy. If it wasn’t so hot, Tony would be angry that he couldn’t move.

Tony felt like he was about to lose himself, a part of him wanted to pull away from the kiss to say something—but, then Steve bit his lip almost hard enough to burst it. The teen came with choking gasp, head falling back against the hood of the car. Steve hovered over him panting, watching Tony tremble and writhe, the teen clinging to him like a lifeline. Even despite feeling the warm moistness that spread between them at Tony’s climax, Steve’s eyes never left Tony’s glistening ones.

A slow, uncharacteristic smirk spread out on Steve’s face. _“I win.”_


End file.
